


Following the Arrow to Your Heart

by goldencursive



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Draco works at the Ministry, First Date, Fluff, Getting Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sort Of, There's a wedding, coffee shop AU, harry works at a coffee shop, slightly dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:07:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24780559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldencursive/pseuds/goldencursive
Summary: After the war, Draco is recruited into the Department of Love (aka Cupid's Arrow). His job is to bring together witches and wizards whose magical signatures are only compatible with each others' (essentially soulmates). As they all learned during training, Cupids are chosen because they do not have soulmates.Six years later, Draco's convinced himself that he's perfectly fine with not having a soulmate. But his latest client turns out to be Harry Potter, and he's forced to reconsider in light of his old feelings.<><><><><>“Good morning, Potter,” says Malfoy. He looks calm, almost comfortable, as if he visits Muggle cafes all the time. Hell, maybe he does. Muggle places come with the convenience of nobody knowing who you are.“Oh - uh - good morning, Malfoy,” stammers Harry, who immediately kicks himself mentally, because that was horrible. Was he twelve again? One word from his crush and he’s reduced to a stuttering mess.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 44
Kudos: 345
Collections: HD Wireless 2020





	1. Malfoys Don't Go Chasing After Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first long(ish) fic that I've written, so please go easy on me! Huge thanks to my brother for beta-ing, even though he's not a Drarry shipper.  
> Song Prompt: Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran  
> See endnotes for more details about the dub-con  
> P.S. I feel like an ass for forgetting to add this, but the idea of the Cupid's Arrow did not come from me, it came from the prompter, CheekyTorah.

Draco has a good job. He works for the Ministry, which isn’t surprising, but he always thought that he would end up in Magical Law Enforcement or International Magical Cooperation. He never expected to be working for the Department of Mysteries. And certainly not with the Department of Love (aka Cupid’s Arrow).

But that’s not the point. The point is, he’s happy. He has a good job that pays well, friends he would die for, and a nice house in an even nicer neighborhood.

So why does he feel like this?

It’s not loneliness; Draco has company. Pansy meets him for lunch every Tuesday at that nice outdoor cafe place, and Blaise drops in every other week with his newest boy toy. He even stops by Greg’s bakery every morning on the way to work to see Greg and grab some breakfast. Not to mention pub night every Friday with his coworkers and whoever else joins them.

It’s not boredom; Draco has an interesting job that he actually enjoys, working with Cupid’s Arrow. (It’s actually astonishing how normal the Department of Mysteries is. Draco always imagined everything shrouded in darkness and secrecy, but the Unspeakables act just like any other Ministry workers. Of course, everything _is_ top secret, and not to be discussed outside the department, ever, but aside from that, nothing seems different from say, DMLE or DIMC.)

And it’s not like Draco’s _depressed_ . He can remember the signs from after the war, when Father was in Azkaban and Mother fell apart at home. She stayed in her room for _months_ afterward, only coming out for meals, and some days not even that. She was withdrawn even after Father returned from Azkaban, though she did get better.

But sometimes he’ll come home from the Ministry, or from visiting Pansy or Greg, and he’ll feel this strange, almost lonely feeling, but it’s not loneliness. It’s something else, but not anything Draco can put a name to.

So what is it?

<><><><><>

“It sounds like you’re lonely,” Pansy remarks after he tells her during his lunch break.

Draco groans. “I just said I _wasn’t_ lonely! Are you actually listening to me?”

“Of course I’m listening. What I mean is, it sounds like you’re lonely _romantically_.”

“Romantically?” Draco furrows his brow in confusion.

“Yes, romantically. You want somebody to come home to. Someone who cooks you breakfast in the mornings and has supper waiting for you on the table when you come home. A boyfriend, or a doting husband type.” 

Draco blushes at the thought. The picture Pansy paints does sound tempting, but it’s impossible. “Pansy, I can’t have a boyfriend, I told you that when I accepted the job at the Ministry.” 

“No, you said you can’t have a soulmate. That’s different than a boyfriend. Plenty of witches and wizards don’t have soulmates.” She sips her tea, judging him with her eyebrows. Draco wrinkles his nose at her.

“Okay, maybe I don’t have a soulmate. That doesn’t mean I want or need a boyfriend. I’m perfectly capable of functioning without one,” Draco huffs, biting into his sandwich.

“Of course you are. You’re an independent young man who just wants some company.” She pats his hand condescendingly as she says this. “But still, think about it. If you want, I’m sure I could find someone you’d like.”

“Maybe,” Draco concedes doubtfully.

“Besides, when was the last time you even thought about dating, Draco? It’s not healthy to be alone for so long,” Pansy continues.

“I haven’t thought about it since I started at the Ministry,” Draco says uncomfortably. This, of course, is a lie. Draco had thought about it far too much when he first began working at the Department of Love. It did seem a little unfair that he wasn’t able to have a soulmate, but he could date.

One glance at Pansy’s face and Draco knows she doesn’t believe him. But she doesn’t say anything. “If you say so, darling. Anyways, did Millie tell you she’s moving back to back to England?”

Draco’s stupidly grateful for the subject change. He hates having to talk about his complicated feelings. “Really? I haven’t heard of it.”

<><><><><>

After lunch with Pansy, Draco heads back to the Ministry, where he has the paperwork from his last client to finish. It was a fairly easy case this time; the witches in question had already been tiptoeing around each other for months, his spell only opened their eyes to the other’s feelings.

Draco stews over what Pansy said while filling out the forms. He doesn't need anybody to feel complete. He never has. It’s always been enough to just have his friends. But what if Pansy was right?

What if? Maybe he does need someone to love him. Someone to take care of him. Someone to take care of. Draco can see it all in his head: coming home from work and being greeted by a handsome man, who kisses him on the cheek and asks how his day was. They’d eat dinner, and maybe afterward-

No. Draco shakes his head. What is he thinking? He is a Malfoy, and Malfoys are independent. Malfoys don’t go chasing after love, love comes chasing after them. Draco resolves to put all of this out of his head. He’ll tell Pansy that she needn’t worry about his love life the next time he sees her.

Draco reaches for the file containing his next case, and his new philosophy comes screeching to a halt when he spots the name embossed on the cover.

Harry James Potter.


	2. The Savior Shows Up Again

Draco has so many questions right now.

Of all the people in Wizarding England, why Harry Potter? Last time Draco checked, Potter had been dating the Weasley girl. In fact, he distinctly remembered an article in the Daily Prophet featuring their engagement.

If Potter was engaged to Weasley, why does he have a file? Why was Draco assigned the file? Draco frowned. Maybe the file was a mistake. Maybe the file belonged to some other department. Draco knew he was grasping at straws even as the thought crossed his mind. He might not know how the other departments worked, but he was pretty sure Love was the only one that wrote the name on the outside of the file in _golden cursive_.

Still, he opened the file to check, just in case.

Yeah, nope. This file was definitely supposed to be there. The file had everything it was supposed to: the name of the client, the name of the Cupid, that stupid bow and arrow logo at the top right-hand corner of the paper. (Remember when Draco said he liked his job? There are a few things he _didn’t_ like about it. First and foremost on that list? The logo, featuring a curvy pink bow and a heart tipped arrow. The unofficial name of the department might be Cupid’s Arrow, but they didn’t use _actual_ arrows! The “arrow” is actually just a spell.)

“Of course,” Draco muttered to himself. “I thought I was done with Potter, but, _no_ , the Savior shows up again!”

Sighing to himself, Draco flipped through the file, examining the contents. The first page listed all of Potter’s vital information: his physical appearances, job description, former relationships, etc.

The following pages described, in detail, Potter’s relationships. Draco wasn’t surprised to see Cho Chang and Ginny Weasley on Potter’s list, but he was taken aback when he saw Cedric Diggory. He scanned the pages until he found Diggory’s, which was only half a page long. Apparently, Potter had a brief fling with the Hufflepuff during his fourth year.

“I didn’t know Potter liked men,” Draco murmured to himself. “Figures he would.” After all, Potter had been the reason Draco started questioning his own sexuality. Well, no, Draco pretty much _knew_ by the time he got to Hogwarts, but the hot, prickly feelings that followed Potter’s appearance pretty much confirmed it. 

Something was just a little bit off about the whole thing, though.“I wonder...How did Potter manage to have three relationships within such a short period of time if he has a soulmate? That shouldn’t be possible,” Draco speculated. He flipped through some more pages, before stopping on one that caught his eye. “What’s this?” Then, as the words on the page registered in his brain, a soft “oh!” fell from his mouth.

See, sometimes a person’s magical signature can change under certain circumstances. However, the circumstances are vastly different from changes in a Patronus. Patronus changes are widely influenced by feelings or a change in a person’s relationships. Changes in magical signature often had to do with a life-changing event (often traumatic), or drastic changes in personality. 

After the war, plenty of people had different magical signatures, and quite a few of them were upset when it turned out they started repelling everyone they tried to kiss. Luckily for them, Cupid’s Arrow stepped in and helped countless witches and wizards find their soulmates. Business had been booming in the years after the war, and Cupid’s Arrow had recruited several new employees. 

(Draco’s new employment had been what kept him out of Azkaban. The Wizengamot had agreed to let him walk free of all charges provided he found a stable job within a week. Privately, Draco thought they were certain he wouldn’t be able to find anyone willing to hire him, and could then chuck him in Azkaban. Unfortunately for them, the Department of Love sent him a letter of employment just a day after. It had been so satisfying to present that letter to the Wizengamot, and watch their faces crumple in disappointment.)

Turns out Potter is one of those unlucky souls that found themselves suddenly unable to touch anyone. Despite this, he decided that he loved Weasley so much, he was willing to stay with her and eventually proposed to her a year later. But apparently, Weasley wasn’t as willing and broke it off barely a week after the proposal. A part of Draco that wasn’t a complete prick winces at this harsh behavior, but the small part of him that always thrilled at catching Potter’s attention throws a small party in his head. Potter only has one other relationship listed, a Muggle man, but that had ended just over a year ago. Which means Potter is now single. Draco’s mind wanders, fantasizing about Harry Potter, as it’s wont to do. Maybe their schoolboy rivalry had been a front for their burning passion for each other. It certainly had been on Draco’s side. Maybe it was the same for Potter.

Draco shoves those thoughts out of his head. They were ridiculous anyways. No man nursing a crush on his rival would propose to his longtime girlfriend. Instead of thinking about it, Draco concentrates on getting his job done. He crosses the tiny office to where a large map of England hangs on the wall. It was enchanted to show where his current client would be, and right now, a small golden dot labeled “Harry Potter'' was shown in a Muggle park Draco visited often. Well, Draco thinks to himself, better sooner than later. And the quicker I find Potter’s soulmate, the quicker I can forget about him. Draco makes a quick pit stop at his house to change into a Muggle outfit and Apparates to the park.

Draco walks around a bit, trying to look around for Potter without looking too suspicious. He must succeed because no one shoots him any weird looks. He eventually spots Potter standing under a tree, chatting with Granger and Weasley. (Or is it Weasley and Weasley? Draco doesn’t know if they’re married yet, but from the way they’re standing, it’s clear they’re still together.)

Potter looks good, though. Really good, and it almost takes Draco’s breath away. Potter had always had a darker skin tone, but while it made him look like he’d spent too much time under the sun in school, now it suits him. Makes him look like one of those models on Witch Weekly, with their gleaming skin and toned muscles. And the slightly too-small t-shirt he is wearing accentuateds his abs very nicely as well.

Not that Draco’s paying any attention to Potter’s abs. They’re just very noticeable since they make up forty percent of his body. In fact, Potter seems to have just finished a run, as his sweat-soaked shirt is clinging to him quite tightly. Couple that with the joggers that leave no room for imagination, and. Well. Could you blame Draco for staring?

Draco pulls his gaze away from the Golden Trio, and, after making sure no Muggles were staring, surreptitiously casts a Disillusion Charm on himself. Snatches of conversation float towards him as he silently approaches the Golden Trio. In all honesty, he probably could have cast the spell from where he previously stood, but Draco tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to accidentally hit someone else, not because he wants to see Potter up close.

But, Merlin, Draco had forgotten how many _feelings_ Potter managed to dredge up in him. Potter had gotten new glasses, and they suit him much better than those ratty, old ones he used to wear. And, sweet bloody Merlin and Morgana, is that a _haircut_ Draco sees? Because while Potter’s hair still looks like he just rolled out of bed, it now gives off a sexy, I-just-got-shagged-and-Merlin-it-was-great vibe.

“Relax, Mione,” Potter is saying. “Your wedding isn’t for another three months. Besides, it’ll be amazing.” Hm. That answers Draco’s question from earlier, then.

“Oh I know, but weddings are always a hassle, and I still have so much to do!” Granger frets.

“Harry’s right, Mione. It’ll be fine. Besides, I’ll be right here beside you the whole time,” adds Weasley, lightly squeezing her hand.

She smiles at him. “Thanks, Ron. I’m so glad I have the both of you,” she adds, swinging her head towards Potter, who smiles in return.

Feeling just a tiny bit intrusive, Draco quickly casts the spell to gather a sample of Potter’s magical signature and watches it float towards him, invisible to everyone else. To his surprise, it isn’t an obnoxious Gryffindor red, but instead a soft green that Draco instinctively knows matches Potter’s eyes, tinged with red and yellow. Bottling it up in a vial he procures from a pocket, Draco Disapparates back to his office.


	3. Harry Is Lonely

Harry is lonely. He admits it! He’s lonely, and he wants a boyfriend, but for some stupid, _dumb_ reason, he can’t seem to touch anyone. Well, except for Muggles. Harry doesn’t have anything against dating Muggles, but it just isn’t the same as dating a wizard. For one, Harry constantly has to hide his magic from them, and he’s rubbish at lying. That’s why his last relationship failed so miserably. Harry constantly forgot to hide his magic and only just managed to catch himself every time he was about to draw his wand out and cast a spell. Simon had caught on to the fact that Harry was hiding something from him pretty quickly. Unfortunately, the Muggle had jumped to conclusions and assumed Harry was cheating on him and had broken up with him quite dramatically two months into the relationship.

Harry hasn’t bothered trying to date another Muggle after that. Simon hadn’t exactly been the brightest crayon in the box, but if he had cottoned on that quickly, then others surely would as well. Harry hasn’t been on a date for over a year, and since one night stands aren’t really his thing, it’s been even longer since his last shag.

“It’s not healthy, mate,” Ron had told him a month ago. “You need to go out and see someone. You shouldn’t be alone for such a long time.”

Harry had groaned. “I know that, Ron! You think I don’t know that?” Harry had begun pacing and raking his hand through this hair, attacking it over and over. “I would if I bloody could! But I can’t even kiss wizards or witches! And I’m sure you remember the bloody nightmare my last relationship with a Muggle was,” ranted Harry.

“Calm _down_ , Harry. It’s not impossible for you to kiss a witch or wizard. Remember, Hermione said there are a few wix you won't repel, you just need to find them. And to do that, you need to put yourself out there,” scolded Ron.

Harry had deflated. “I know you’re right, Ron, but I don’t think I could take the disappointment every time I’m not able to touch someone.”

“You’ll find someone, Harry. It’ll just take some time,” Ron had reassured him.

This was the conversation looping through Harry’s head now. After that day, Ron hasn’t pressed on the topic anymore, but every now and then, he’d shoot Harry these _looks_ , like he knows Harry isn’t doing anything about it. Luckily for Harry, Ron’s so caught up in wedding planning, he never has time to have another heart to heart.

It’s not like Harry doesn’t _want_ to date, it’s just like he told Ron: the disappointment would crush him if he goes on a date and it ends badly. Where is that infamous Gryffindor courage when he needs it? “I need to clear my head,” Harry growls to himself. “I think I’ll go out for a run.”

Harry yanks his pajama top off and pulls on a random t-shirt he grabs from his wardrobe and frowns. The shirt is a bit too small, but Harry can’t be bothered to change. Yanking on his joggers, Harry crosses to the door and breaks into a light jog, heading towards the nearest Muggle park.

<><><><><>

After his break-up with Ginny, Harry had pretty much ignored most of the Wizarding World and retreated to the Muggle one. He bought a flat in Muggle London, because he couldn’t bear to live with all of the memories Grimmauld Place was riddled with, and had Hermione help him charm his new space so the Muggle appliances would still work with all his wards and magic. 

Given the size of his inheritance, Harry has no real need to have a job, but working keeps him occupied, and he found a pleasant job as a Muggle barista. The cafe had been one of his favorite places to cool down after his fights with Ginny, and when he saw the “help wanted” sign hanging on the door one day, he hadn’t hesitated and applied immediately. There’s just something strangely calming about mixing drinks and interacting with customers. Even rude customers are a welcome change from the fawning he receives from every single witch and wizard he meets.

But Harry only works four hours a day, even if he does work all week. There's only so much he can do, and whenever he gets bored, properly bored, that’s when he misses the Wizarding World the most. Well, one thing in particular: flying. It had always taken his mind off of whatever problem he was worrying about. Hermione, exasperated with his whining, had finally suggested running.

Harry had taken to it like a fish to water. It doesn’t take his mind off things quite as easily as flying did, but it’s close enough. And so Harry had started running every day, and every time he needs to forget. It works wonders for his brain.

Works wonders for his body as well. Harry had never exactly been “in-shape”, but after months of Molly’s cooking and sitting around his flat doing nothing, Harry had developed a bit of a podge. It was small, almost nothing, but it was definitely there. But now? Gone. It had disappeared within the first two months he’d started running. And not only did it disappear, it left something else in its wake: abs. 

(Personally, that’s something Harry would never get used to. He had grown accustomed to seeing an under-developed body whenever he looks, and it’s a bit surreal to have a body that isn’t just healthy, but thriving as well.)

The Muggle park has a convenient little path for runners and joggers that winds through the entire park, and spans about a mile. Harry runs about five laps of it before spotting Ron and Hermione standing just off the path. For a moment, he debates ignoring them and continuing his run, but quickly discards that idea. It’s been over a week since he last saw them and he misses them.

Slowing his jog, Harry walks over to where his best mates are standing. Hermione looks harried, pulling a face not unlike the ones she used to make the months nearing finals, and Ron looks like he’s attempting to placate her.

“Ron! Hermione!” calls Harry.

The pair look up at the sound of their names, and Ron breaks into a smile. “Harry! Fancy seeing you here.” Harry accepts the hair ruffle Ron gives him with a grin and leans down to hug Hermione.

“Yeah, I was out for a run.” Both of them know what that means.

Hermione smiles at him. “Don’t think too much, Harry. You’ll give yourself a headache,” she teases.

Harry laughs. “Yeah, I just might!” He spots a shock of white-blond hair in the distance, but it disappears before he can get a close look. Hermione’s right - he really will give himself a headache if he doesn’t stop seeing things. “How have the wedding preparations been going?” asks Harry, determined to put Malfoy out of his mind.

Hermione’s face immediately puckers up. She opens her mouth to say something, but Ron interjects. “Great! We have _everything_ under control.” He gives his fiancee a significant look. Hermione looks so worried, Harry would laugh if it wasn’t inappropriate.

“Relax, Mione,” Harry placates. “Your wedding isn’t for another three months. Besides, it’ll be amazing.” This, he’s sure of. How can it not be? Not only are Ron and Hermione planning it, but Molly and Luna are helping as well. As a professional wedding planner, Luna has great (if a little unusual) ideas and Harry has never known Molly to organize anything and fail.

“Oh I know it will, but weddings are always a hassle, and I still have so much to do!” frets Hermione.

“Harry’s right, Mione,” says Ron. “It’ll be fine. Besides, I’ll be right here beside you through it all.” He squeezes her hand and she smiles at him.

“Thanks, Ron. I’m so glad I have the both of you,” she adds, swinging her head around to smile at Harry. Harry smiles back and tries to quash his jealousy at their easy relationship.

Hermione starts suddenly. “Oh!” she cries. “I almost forgot. Harry, are you going to bring a date to the wedding? I want to get the seating arrangement done soon.”

Harry knows her well enough to know the question is for another purpose. What she really wants to know if Harry’s going to bring anyone, full stop. He scratches his head. “I don’t know, Mione. Who would I bring?” For a second, Harry remembers the pale blond head he saw earlier and thinks about Malfoy. But it’s a ridiculous thought. What would he even say? “Hey, I know we hate each other, except it turns out I don’t, I’ve actually had a subconscious crush on you since sixth year, wanna be my date to my best friends’ wedding (who you also hate)?” Harry snorts internally. Yeah, it is ridiculous. “I guess I can always ask someone to go with as friends.”

“No, don’t do that, Harry!” says Hermione, and she actually looks a bit distraught. “You should bring an actual date.”

“Yeah, mate. I know hundreds of people who’d kill for a chance to be your date,” teases Ron.

“Ugh. As if I’d go out with any of them.” Despite his words, Harry can’t fight the smile creeping on his face.

“At least try, Harry,” Ron says, suddenly serious.

“Yes, Harry. Three months is plenty of time to meet someone,” Hermione tells him gently.

“I think about it,” sighs Harry. “No promises, though.”


	4. Harry Potter's Soulmate

Draco Apparates back to his office, clutching the bottle of Potter’s magical signature. He unstoppers it and pours the contents into a small Pensieve. Draco leans back and stares at it for a few minutes. A person’s magical signature is very unique, but Draco’s never seen one like Potter’s. It radiates caring and bravery and absolutely pulses with so much love it’s almost blinding. And he can tell all this from just glancing at it.

Draco prods at the glowing fluid with his wand and is instantly bombarded with more of Potter’s personality traits, the below the surface ones. Recklessness, pigheadedness, loyalty, humbleness, protectiveness. His love for Quidditch and flying, his fierce devotion to his friends, his fondness towards treacle tarts. All the things make him _Potter_.

It’s strange. Draco hasn’t cast a single diagnostic spell, and yet Potter’s signature has revealed so much to him already. None of the countless signatures he’s worked with before did that. Maybe it’s because he knows Potter intimately? No, that can’t be it. Draco remembers working with Theodore Nott’s signature, but it had never revealed this much to him, even though they were pretty good friends. Draco had read a book about the theory of magical signatures when he first started out, and could recall a passage about signatures revealing more to those they most trusted.

Does that mean Potter _trusts_ him? No, that’s too ridiculous to think about. It must be something else. But, still, Draco can’t quite ignore the fluttering in his stomach or fight the smile spreading across his face.

Draco directs his wand at the Pensieve and fires off the first spell, which tracts for all compatible signatures. He murmurs another spell that will mark all of Potter’s potential soulmates on his map, then another one that highlights the best match (his soulmate, essentially). Draco looks up at the map, expecting to see at least a dozen people, because it would only make sense for the great Harry Potter to have loads of soulmates. But there’s only one name on it.

“It’s me,” Draco says out loud, wonder coloring his voice. “ _I’m_ Potter’s soulmate.” He sits down abruptly and giggles, overcome with giddy. Now, it makes sense how much Potter’s signature revealed to him. They were soulmates. Perfect halves of each other. Potter’s signature sensed his signature and could tell that instantly.

Merlin. This has to be too good to be true. If Draco isn’t, in fact, just dreaming, then this means he actually has a chance with Potter. More than just a chance, considering they were practically made for each other.

There’s only one thing to do now. Normally, Draco would have to go find the soulmate, gather their signature, and cast another volley of spells, but since the soulmate is him, that cuts his work down considerably. Draco murmurs the spell and pulls out a second Pensieve, directing his silvery signature into the basin. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Draco acknowledges the irony of his and Potter’s signatures forming the Slytherin colors.

Draco takes a deep breath, then casts the final spell, which works a little bit like Felix Felicis, influencing the ones under the spell to do whatever needed to be done. He feels the charm settle around him like a warm blanket, and knows somewhere else in London, the same spell settles over Potter.

<><><><><>

Draco pushes his way out of Greg’s bakery, his customary breakfast of cranberry scones clutched in his hand. He starts towards the alleyway that he usually Apparates to work from, but pauses halfway there. He had gotten up unusually early this morning, which means he has at least another hour before he has to be at the Ministry, and the weather is excellent. It wouldn’t hurt to walk there, Draco decides, and sets off toward the Ministry.

Draco spots a quaint little cafe named Hydrangea Coffee Shop not even five minutes after finishing his breakfast, and it strikes him suddenly that he forgot to order a coffee at Greg’s. One glance at his watch tells him that he still has plenty of time before he’s late, so he crosses the road and pushes into the cafe.

A bell chimes, and Draco’s nose tingles with the aroma of coffee and baked goods that wafts towards him. The cafe looks very cheerful, and sports a sunny blue-yellow-green color scheme. The employee behind the counter is tending to the only other customer, a young teenage boy, but calls out a greeting.

“Welcome to Hydrangea! I’ll be right with you.” The voice sounds familiar, and when the barista turns around, Draco realizes why. Because, of course, it’s Harry Potter.

Potter doesn’t seem to notice that it’s Draco that just walked into his cafe, instead handing the other customer his drink and waving him goodbye. Draco takes a moment to steel himself, and walks forward. “Good morning, Potter.”

Potter visibly starts before stuttering out a reply. “Oh - uh - good morning, Malfoy.” His eyes are wider than saucers and he clearly doesn't expect Draco to be there. “Um, what would you like to order?” he asks after a minute.

Draco wants to smirk at Potter’s speechlessness, especially since Draco is the source of it, but refrains himself. If he’s being honest, Draco can’t really blame him; he’s having trouble remembering how to speak as well. Because while Potter looked good soaked with sweat yesterday, he looks even better cleaned up and in an apron. “I’ll have a coffee. Two creams and four sugars.”

Potter turns around and gets to work making Draco’s coffee, while Draco studiously avoids ogling Potter’s ass. Obviously, he fails, because Potter turns back around and Draco ends up staring at his crotch instead. Ripping his gaze away from Potter’s goods, he pays for the drink and moves to take it. Potter’s fingers brush against his when Draco takes the drink, and he almost shivers at the touch. Draco heads for the door and is almost out when Potter’s voice stops him.

“Malfoy, wait!” Draco turns around, butterflies in his stomach. Potter scratches at his head. “Will I see you tomorrow?” he blurts out.

Draco blushes and nods, first hesitantly, then more firmly. Potter, Draco’s pleased to note, blushes as well.

“Well, I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow, then.”

Draco nods again. “Tomorrow, Potter.” Draco ducks out of the cafe with a smile on his face and sips his coffee. It tastes like happiness, which Draco didn’t even know had a taste. Nevertheless, Draco thinks of Potter the entire day, and even though all he does is paperwork, he can’t help but smile the whole time.


	5. Only If You Call Me Draco

Harry is having a good day. Really, he is. He woke up in a great mood and arrived at work with an even better one. The cafe had its usual Friday morning rush, but it was a comfortable haze, just busy enough to keep Harry occupied, but not too stressful.

Things die down a little near the end of his shift, half an hour before it ends, and there’s only one customer in the cafe. The customer in question had ordered something simple, iced coffee and a donut, despite being a teenager. Teenagers, Harry had come to find, love to order ridiculously complicated drinks that never fail to confuse him. Why does it matter that their coffees have to have so many fancy syrups in them? What’s wrong with good old fashioned cream and sugar?

The bell chimes and Harry calls out a greeting. “Welcome to Hydrangea! I’ll be right with you.” He caps the lid on the drink, and turns to hand it to the waiting customer, who murmurs a thanks before walking out. Harry moves to greet the customer who just entered, but his words die on his lips.

Because the customer is Draco Malfoy.

Harry might be going into shock, because a: it’s _Malfoy_ , and they haven’t bumped into each other for years, but he shows up the day after Harry kept thinking about him, b: he shows up _here_ , in the cafe Harry works at, the decidedly _Muggle_ one, and c: it looks like he’s wearing Muggle clothes, jeans and a polo shirt, under his robes.

“Good morning, Potter,” says Malfoy. He looks calm, almost comfortable, as if he visits Muggle cafes all the time. Hell, maybe he does. Muggle places come with the convenience of nobody knowing who you are.

“Oh - uh - good morning, Malfoy,” stammers Harry, who immediately kicks himself mentally, because that was horrible. Was he twelve again? One word from his crush and he’s reduced to a stuttering mess. 

In his defense, Malfoy looks incredible. All of his clothes are tight, clinging to his body in a way that leaves no room for imagination. His hair is longer now, hanging past his shoulders, half of it swept up in a neat little bun. Harry can instantly see himself stroking his fingers through that white-blond hair, taking the bun apart, tugging on a strand of hair while Malfoy kisses him, moaning as-

Harry immediately shuts down that train of thought. It’s too dangerous to think those kinds of things right now, especially with Malfoy right in front of him. But he can’t help himself when Malfoy is standing right there, and looking so tempting.

Malfoy shifts, and Harry realizes that he’d been spacing out. “Um, what would you like to order?” asks Harry, kicking himself for not speaking earlier. Now he looks like an even bigger dork.

Malfoy seems amused by it, though, if the little lip quirk he makes is any indication. Harry is immediately mesmerized by those lips. They’re deliciously plump and moist, and Harry can picture them swollen from kisses, and, _wow_ , he really needs to stop thinking these thoughts if he wants to avoid an erection. That would only make the situation more embarrassing and awkward then it already is.

“I’ll have a coffee. Two creams and four sugars,” Malfoy informs him. He licks his lips, as if he can tell exactly what it does to Harry, who turns around to avoid doing something embarrassing, like lunging across the counter and kissing the hell out of him.

When Harry turns back around, Malfoy starts a little bit, and quickly snaps his gaze upward. Harry blinks and holds back a smile. Was Malfoy staring at his ass?

Malfoy pays, and their fingers brush when Harry hands him the drink, sending a thrill through Harry. Malfoy murmurs a low thank you that goes directly to Harry’s dick. He turns to go, and almost reaches the door when Harry blurts out, “Malfoy, wait!” He turns and stares expectantly, the picture of cool nonchalance, but his face is tinged light pink. “Will I see you again tomorrow?”

Malfoy turns pinker and nods once, weakly, then again, stronger. Harry blushes as well, and tells him, “Well, I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow, then.”

Malfoy smiles, faintly, and Harry melts a little. “Tomorrow, Potter.” He leaves, and since Harry is alone, with nobody around to judge him, he jumps and pumps his fist in the air.

<><><><><>

After that brief encounter, Malfoy shows up at the cafe every day. They don’t talk much, aside from the good mornings, but Harry falls a little bit in love each day.

About a week later, Harry runs into Malfoy while jogging. Quite literally. Harry rounds a corner, lost in the music pumping through his earbuds and _bam_! Instant collision. Wide eyed, Harry picks himself and Malfoy up, apologizing profusely.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you and I really wasn’t paying attention, but I should have been, and really I’m sorry - ” Harry rambles on.

Malfoy laughs, making Harry break off. “I’m fine, Potter. Not a scratch on me.” He smiles at Harry.

“You should call me Harry.” Harry’s not quite sure where this comes from, but as soon as he says it he knows he wants to hear Malfoy say it.

Malfoy stares at him for a bit, then smiles faintly. “Only if you call me Draco.”

Harry breaks out in a grin. “Alright then, Draco.” Maybe it’s a bit cliched, but he likes the way the name fits in his mouth.

“What are you doing here, Harry?” (He also likes the sound of his in Draco’s mouth.)

“I was out for a run,” Harry answers. “You?”

“Out for a walk,” Draco replies.

“Not the most agreeable weather for a walk though,” Harry comments, glancing up at the overcast sky.

“You’re out,” Draco raises a brow.

Harry grins. “Yeah, but this run is part of my _routine_. I run at this time every day, no matter the weather.”

Draco tosses his hair back. “Well, I needed to get out of the house. Join me?”

“Sure,” shrugs Harry. “Dunno if you want to be seen with me. I’m all sweaty and gross.”

Draco smirks and flicks his wand, concealed inside a sleeve, drying Harry out. “Cleaning charms, Po - Harry. Ever heard of them?”

A smile tugs on Harry’s lips. “What about the Muggles?” he asks, choosing to ignore it, “Aren’t you afraid of being seen?”

Draco wrinkles his nose and starts walking, Harry following him. “No one is looking. Even if they were, who would they tell? Nobody would believe them.”

“I suppose you’re right,” hums Harry.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did, but sure,” shrugs Harry. “Ask away.”

“Smartass. Anyway, why do you work in a Muggle cafe? Surely Wizarding businesses would hire you.” Draco doesn’t sound condescending, instead genuinely curious, and Harry shrugs.

“Dunno. I guess Muggle places are just easier. Nobody knows who I am, for one.”

Draco hums. “I suppose you are correct.” They continue ambling along the path in a comfortable silence, broken only by the chirping birds. 

Harry is the first to speak. “What about you? Where do you work?”

Draco seems to shift, and bites his lip. “I work for the Department of Mysteries. I can’t say anything beyond that. I’m sure you understand.”

Harry grins. “Of course. Hermione works in the Ministry, too. International Magical Cooperation.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of that. I’ve also heard rumors she plans to run for Minister next year. Is that true?”

“Oh, yes,” Harry confirms wryly. “Hermione’s _determined_. She has so many things to do already I’m surprised she hasn’t collapsed yet, what with that and wedding planning on top of her already stressful job.”

“She’s getting married to Weasley, isn't she? Will she be taking his name?”

“They’re thinking about hyphenating. Hermione says she’s fine with taking Ron’s name, but he wants her to keep hers.”

“You’d think it would be the other way around,” says Draco, amused.

“Yeah. but nothing’s very traditional about their relationship,” jokes Harry.

Draco glances at him sideways. “What about you? Are you in a relationship, Harry? Last I heard, you were dating Ginevra Weasley.” Harry’s eyes widen comically.

“No - no, we broke up. I’m not seeing anyone,” he chokes out.

“Good.” Draco smiles, pleased, and Harry's eyes widen even more. Before he can say anything, Draco glances at his watch and announces, “I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow, Harry.” He squeezes Harry’s shoulder and Disapparates, leaving Harry staring. A smile steals over his face. Draco thought it was _good_ , that Harry wasn’t seeing anyone. He strolls home, whistling happily, smiling wide despite the abysmal weather.


	6. Harry Makes the First Move

For the third time this afternoon, Draco recalls Harry’s wide-eyed look when he asked after Harry's relationship status, and smirks. Obviously, Draco already knew Harry was single, but _Harry_ didn’t know he knew that, and it did serve another purpose: letting Harry know he was interested.

Would it seem too sudden if Draco were to ask Harry out tomorrow? They’d only been reconciled for a week, and that conversation in the park is the only real one they had. Good morning’s and how are you’s exchanged briefly while ordering coffee didn’t count as actual conversing.

 _I’ll wait another week_ , Draco decides. He’ll start with something small, maybe a drink with some friends. No, that wouldn’t do; Harry might get the wrong impression and think Draco’s just being friendly. Draco shakes his head. _I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it_.

Surprisingly, it’s Harry who makes the first move, just three days after their encounter in the park.

“Say, Draco, are you seeing anyone?” Harry tries to sound casual, but his nervous shifting gives it away.

Draco suppresses a gleeful smile. “No, I’m not, actually.”

Harry clears his throat. “Would you like to be?”

Draco lifts a brow, acting nonchalant, but inside, he can’t stop himself from squealing. “Maybe. Depends on what you mean.”

Harry bites his lip. “ Do you want to go out for dinner sometime? With me?”

A pleased smile steals over Draco’s face. “I’d love to have dinner sometime. With you.”

Harry lights up, dropping the casual act. “Really?” It’s adorable how much he sounds like a hopeful child. Harry seems to realize this and flushes, clearing his throat in an attempt to recover. “I mean, that’s great! I’ll owl you the details.”

Draco leaves the cafe feeling much happier than he has in a while.

<><><><><>

Later that afternoon Harry sends an owl, a beautiful tawny little owl with a regal air.

 _Dear Draco_ , reads the letter,

_There’s this lovely Muggle restaurant called Amaryllis that serves the most amazing food you will ever taste. I hope you don’t mind that I picked a Muggle place. I mostly did it to keep the press off our backs. They somehow always manage to show up at Wizarding places, especially if I’m out with someone that’s not Ron or Hermione. I’d rather our first date not be interrupted by reporters. Well, that, and the fact that the food really is that good._

_If you’re free this Saturday, I can pick you up at eight o’clock. Dress casual. I’ll feel bad if I show up in jeans and you end up wearing a fancy suit or something._

_~Harry_

Draco absentmindedly smiles to himself as he feeds Harry’s owl. He fetches some parchment and a quill, and starts penning a reply.

_Dear Harry,_

_Your handwriting is absolutely atrocious. It took me nearly ten minutes to decipher your letter. Honestly, if your handwriting is this bad now, I shudder to think what it must’ve been like when you were younger._

_As it happens, I’ve been meaning to try out Amaryllis for a while now. It looks like a lovely place. And unless you’re some sort of stalker, I will assume you don’t know my address and was being dim-witted in not asking. I live at Kerrison Road, Ealing. My house is the one with the giant tree by the door. I’ll see you Saturday._

_~Draco_

_P.S. Your owl is quite beautiful. What’s her name?_

Satisfied, Draco rolls the letter up and ties it to the owl’s leg, watching her take off, soaring in the direction of Harry’s house. She returns with a reply soon after.

“That was quick,” Draco murmurs, surprised.

 _I’m going to choose to ignore your remark about my handwriting, because it is not true and we are not schoolboys, so I will not squabble like one over something so small. (But of course_ your _handwriting looks like you could be writing wedding invitations professionally.)_

 _Can you imagine the field day the press is going to have? Not only am I going on a date with someone for the first time in over a year, I’ll be out with you, the reclusive Malfoy heir. Did you know, there are no less than twenty three Witch Weekly articles published since the war mentioning you and your singleness? Apparently, you make a_ very _eligible bachelor. They’ll be devastated to learn that you’re gay._

_~Harry_

_P.S. My owl’s name is Athena._

Draco glances over at the owl. “Athena,” he muses. The owl hoots at the sound of her name, nuzzling his finger in reply. “It suits you.” He sends her off with his own response.

They trade letters like this for the rest of the week. Draco begins to look forward to seeing Athena’s regal form swooping out his window, and takes to leaving it open. No point in closing it just to open it back up twenty minutes later.

<><><><><>

How do you get ready for a date with the most famous wizard in all of England, no, the world? The Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, the Chosen One, the guy you’ve been crushing on since you were a teenager? The guy who, also, happens to be your soulmate?

 _Apparently_ , thought Draco wryly, _you stress the hell out._

Draco takes the day off, which he really should not have done, because all it does is give himself more time to stress over the date. He spends the hours leading up to it pacing the living room and changing his outfit every ten minutes.

Harry had told him to dress casually, which Draco’s a little grateful for, because he definitely would’ve thrown on a suit or something else of that nature. But even with a dress code, he has a hard time choosing an outfit. Finally, desperate, he sends an owl to Pansy.

His Floo fires up shortly, and Pansy steps through, dusting herself off. “This urgent matter better be important, Draco, I was in the middle of something. I swear to Merlin, if you called me here to complain about Potter, I’m leaving.”

Draco makes a face at her. “Well, not to complain about him, exactly.” Pansy sighs impatiently, crossing her arms and glaring at him. Draco bites his lip and says, all in one breath, “He asked me out on a date and I need help picking something to wear.”

Pansy’s jaw drops and her arms fall to her sides. “Did he really? When?”

“Wednesday.”

She smacks him across the chest. “And you didn’t think to tell me earlier?”

“I had a lot on my mind!” Draco protests. “Besides, I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”

She sighs. “When’s the date?”

“Eight o’clock tonight.”

She tugs him in the direction of his bedroom. “Come on. Let’s get you ready for your date with the Golden Boy.”

Twenty minutes, several outfits, and one argument over eyeliner later, Draco is finally ready. Pansy leaves, smugly declaring her job done and makes him promise to give her all the details after.

He can’t blame her for being so self-satisfied; she did do an excellent job with him. He’s dressed in black, skin-tight pants that Pansy declared “hugs his ass, and frames it perfectly,” and a soft, navy blue shirt that accentuates his eyes and “really makes them pop.” His hair is up in a messy bun that he knows Harry loves.

Satisfied with the way he looks, Draco retreats to the living room to wait for Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, Harry's owl isn't actually small, it's a breed called little owl.


	7. Only One Way to Find Out

Harry arrives eight o’clock on the dot, and Draco opens the door, slightly breathless with anticipation. He isn’t disappointed

Harry wears a dark green shirt, skinny jeans, and a beanie, pulled over his head so that only the floppy part of his hair is showing. He somehow manages to look absolutely adorable and breathtakingly gorgeous at the same time. They just stand there, staring at each other for a minute.

“You look amazing,” says Harry. His cheeks are aflame, painting his face in a rosy color.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” Draco replies, blushing furiously as well. 

Harry offers his arm to Draco. “Shall we?” Smiling, Draco takes the arm and they Apparate away.

They get a small booth near the windows overlooking the busy London streets. Harry orders a bottle of wine for the both of them, a strange Muggle brand Draco doesn’t recognize.

“I expected you to be more of a beer guy,” Draco remarks.

Harry scoffs good naturedly. “Well, I am, really, but you don’t drink beer on a date. It’s rude.”

The wine arrives and they order. “I’ll have chicken parmesan,” Harry tells the waiter. He leans toward Draco. “You should try the oysters with garlic sauce. I think you’ll really like it.”

Draco smiles and turns to the waiter. “I suppose I’ll have the oysters, then. Thank you.”

Harry pours the wine, and Draco accepts his glass with a smile. Peering into it, he remarks, “You know, I’ve never been on a date before.” He takes a sip.

Harry jolts in surprise. “Really? Never? But-”

Draco shrugs. “I’m gay. I’ve known since I was five. My father wasn’t very accepting of it back then, though he’s mellowed out a bit under Mother’s influence, but I still wasn’t allowed to see other boys.” Draco swallows another sip of wine.

“I got my job immediately after the war, and it keeps me very busy. I’ve never met anyone I was interested in, before, and no one came up to me.” Draco shrugs. “That’s all there is to it.”

“So, I’m your first date,” Harry says slowly. Draco nods, and Harry bites his lip. “I can’t say I’m too disappointed about that. I like knowing I’m your first.”

“Don’t get too cocky, now,” smirks Draco. “I said I’ve never met someone I was interested in, so I didn’t date. I’ve still had my fair share of one-night stands.”

Harry pinks slightly, but their food arrives before he can say anything else. Draco takes a bite of his oysters and moans, just a little, at the taste. Harry blushes even more.

“This really is amazing,” says Draco, savoring the taste. “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed oysters so much.”

Harry grins. “Yeah, their food is spectacular. Ron found this place, actually, and I’ve been dying to share it with someone.”

They spend the next few minutes just eating. Draco can’t help the pleased sounds that escape him with every bite, but the way Harry responds, blushing deeper each time, is worth it.

Draco swallows his bite, and gives voice to the question gnawing on him all day. “Why did you ask _me_ out, Harry? Not that I’m not enjoying this, or thrilled at your request, but I rather thought you didn’t like me.”

Harry pauses mid-bite and sets his fork down. “I don’t not like you. I just don’t like the facade of a cruel boy you put up in school. I know you aren’t that boy. You’ve changed, and so have I.”

Draco picks up a slight hesitation. “That’s not all, is it?” he prompts.

Harry makes a face. “I...might have had a crush on you since sixth year,” he says reluctantly.

Draco snorts at the irony of it all. “Really? I’ve technically had one on you since we were twelve, I just didn’t realize it until fourth year.” A thought strikes him. “But you proposed to Ginevra. You almost got engaged.”

Harry bites his lip. “Well, I didn’t realize I liked you until after Ginny broke up with me. In fact, she was the reason I figured it out.” Draco makes a soft noise of interest, and Harry reluctantly expounds on his comment.

“I was very obsessed with you after the war; I saved every magazine and newspaper clipping mentioning you. Gin and I had this fight after we broke up. I wanted to get back together, thought I could make her see reason, but she told me she was sick of my obsession with you. One of the last things she yelled at me before storming away was ‘Since you love Draco Malfoy so much, maybe you should go propose to him.’ It took me a while, but I finally figured out why that comment nagged at me so much.”

Harry shrugs, drinks some wine. “I didn’t like it, when I first realized my feelings. Tried to forget about you. I moved, burned everything I had on you. Worked, for a few months. But I started seeing you everywhere. Blonde hair in Diagon Alley. The date Mione set me up on had grey eyes. I got used to it. Accepted it, for the most part, and hoped it would go away.”

Harry pulls in a breath, exhaling with a huff. “But then you showed up, two weeks ago. Like you stepped out of a dream.” He smiles, and Draco’s heart goes _flop_.

He smirks in an attempt to lighten the mood. “So sentimental, Harry,” he teases. “I hope you don’t expect me to pour out my epic tale of pining.”

Harry laughs, and the rest of their date sails on smoothly. They make small talk, about Harry's job, their respective friends, and Draco's mother. Finally, they finish their food and prepare to leave.

They make their way to a small, empty side road, and Harry offers Draco his arm again, Apparating them back to Draco’s house. Harry opens his mouth, then closes it and bites his lip. Sensing his hesitation, Draco steps in. “Are you going to kiss me goodnight?”

Harry hesitates, and Draco quickly backtracks. “What’s wrong? Did I overstep? You don’t have to, I just-” Harry stops him.

“No, you didn't overstep,” says Harry. “It’s just - I haven’t been able to kiss anyone magical since the war. I don’t - I don’t know if I’ll be able to kiss you.”

Draco gazes into Harry's eyes, smiling. “Only one way to find out,” he murmurs softly. Feeling strangely brave, he wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, pulling him in, their mouths colliding in a kiss.

Harry gasps, and Draco slides his tongue in immediately. Harry responds enthusiastically, his fingers tangling into Draco’s hair and pulling his bun apart. Soft, blond locks of hair tumble down Draco’s shoulders, followed by Harry’s caressing hands. In return, Draco pulls Harry’s beanie off, sliding his hands through the coarse black hair.

The kiss is hungry and desperate, all of their longing and want poured into the action. Harry pushes Draco against the door and Draco pulls him in, grabbing and touching. Fingers tug at hair and trail over skin, dipping below shirts. Tongues battle in their mouths, licking and biting, exploring each other.

Draco moves his mouth from Harry’s latching onto his neck. Harry moans happily, pushing him harder into the door. Pretty soon, a decently sized hickey blooms.

“Do you - do you want to come in?” Draco pants, his mouth finding its way back to Harry’s.

“Yes,” gasps Harry. Draco grips him tighter. Not bothering to waste time fumbling with his keys, he Apparates them directly to his bedroom.

“What - what do you want?” Harry asks between kisses.

“I want you to fuck me,” Draco replies breathlessly.

Harry’s eyes darken with want. “Fuck - yeah, that can be arranged.”

Draco grins at him a little predatorily, and fingers the hemline of his shirt. “Clothes off.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry responds cheekily, before stripping down to his boxers. Draco runs his hands over Harry’s pectoral muscles, then starts stripping himself.

As soon as he shakes his pants off, Harry pushes him onto the bed, crawling over him. He grips Draco’s ass savagely, kneading and caressing in equal measure. “Lube?” he grunts out.

“Top drawer. Condoms, too,” breathes Draco. Harry grabs the small bottle of lube and a silvery packet of condoms. He rolls one onto himself with shaky fingers, then uncaps the lube. Pouring some onto his fingers, he slowly inserts one into Draco.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Yes, that-” Harry adds another finger, twisting slightly. Draco gasps at the sensation. “That feels good.” Harry scissors his fingers slowly, stretching Draco open. But it’s not enough. “Come on, Harry, I’m not going to break. Give me more.”

Harry grins. “Well, if you insist.” He adds a third finger, then a fourth, and begins finger-fucking him in earnest, in, out, in, out. Draco moans and wraps a hand around his own dick.

“Merlin, yes - that feels better,” gasps Draco. “C’mon, I want to feel you inside of me.”

“So bossy,” smirks Harry, dipping in for a kiss. “I should’ve expected it.” He removes his fingers suddenly, leaving Draco feeling empty, but Harry thrust himself in with one fluid motion, and he forgets the meaning of empty.

“Merlin, you’re huge,” Draco pants. Harry stops as he bottoms out.

“Is it too much?” he asks, concerned.

Draco hisses and swats at him. “No! Don’t stop now, I was enjoying myself!"

Harry laughs and starts moving again. “Well, as long as you’re having fun.” He picks up the pace and starts fucking Draco in earnest. Sweat rolls down his face and onto his chest as he proceeds to spear Draco over and over. He shifts, finding an angle he likes, and continues to tear Draco apart.

“Yes, yes, Harry, just like that. Merlin, you feel so good inside of me,” babbles Draco, unable to keep quiet.

“You like that, don’t you,” Harry murmurs, driving into him harder and harder. Draco winds an arm around his head and pulls him down into a kiss, hot and filthy. Draco comes immediately, Harry's skillful tongue and unrelenting pace his undoing. He moans into Harry’s mouth, spurting hot ropes of come all over Harry’s chest. Harry comes not long after, shuddering in his release.

They collapse on their sides, facing each other, Draco tracing patterns in the come on Harry’s chest, Harry stroking Draco’s hair out of his face.

“That’s your body fluids, you know,” he tells Draco teasingly.

“Mmm, yes, I do know. I like the thought of my body fluids on you. Marks you as mine,” Draco responds.

Harry laughs lowly, kissing him. “Do you want to take a shower?”

Draco reaches for his wand and swiftly cleans them up, come-covered bodies, lube-stained sheets, and all. “Bleh. We can shower in the morning.”

“Morning?”

Draco falters, glancing up at Harry. “You are staying?” He sounds far too vulnerable for his liking.

“I wasn’t sure if I could stay,” Harry murmurs softly.

Draco huffs. “Of course you can stay! I don’t put out on the first date for just anyone, you know.”

Harry smiles. Pulling the blanket over them both, he tucks Draco in close. “Go to sleep, Draco,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to his forehead. It feels nice in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time, and Draco drifts off, content.


	8. Pretty Damn Happy, Dancing With His Boyfriend

When Draco wakes up, the first thing he notices is Harry’s arm wrapped around him and their legs tangled together. He blinks confusedly, before the events of last night hit him like a hammer.

Harry looks soft, and strangely vulnerable, his face relaxed in sleep. His mouth is open slightly, but no drool, and he snores softly. His hair looks floppy and sleep-tousled, and so, so soft. Draco reaches out a hand and strokes it, not quite believing that this is his. That this wonderful, perfect man who’s stolen Draco’s heart returns his feelings. He closes his eyes and smiles to himself. When he opens them again, Harry’s eyes watch his own.

“Good morning,” Harry rumbles softly, voice still raspy with sleep.

“Morning,” Draco returns fondly. The hand previously stroking Harry’s hair moves down to his face, cupping his cheek. Draco runs his thumb over Harry’s freckles, then leans in to kiss him.

The kiss is soft and languid. Slow. They have all the time in the world right now, and they use it to get to know each other. Harry’s tongue laps at his, and Draco bites his lip, tugging softly.

“Do you want breakfast?” Draco asks, murmuring into Harry’s mouth. He feels rather than sees the nod in response. Lips curving into a smile, he pulls Harry up. “Come on, then. Shower first, then get dressed.”

He leads Harry to the bathroom, and they take turns showering. Harry suggests showering together, but stops once he sees how small Draco’s shower is. When they finish, Draco lends Harry a shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

“I’m surprised you even own these,” Harry grins, holding the sweats up. “Not really your style.”

Draco sniffs. “Those were a gag gift from Blaise. I’ve been meaning to throw them out, but…” But they’re comfortable, he didn’t add. There’s really no need for Harry to know he sometimes lazed about the house in those sweats.

“But…” Harry teases.

Draco swats at him. “I don’t have time! I’m a very busy man with more important things to do, alright?”

“Whatever you say,” laughs Harry. Draco ignores him and starts for the direction of his kitchen.

Draco makes pancakes and scrambled eggs, and watches with satisfaction as Harry scarfs it all down. Harry declares it “the best food I’ve had since Molly’s cooking.”

“You’re just trying to butter me up,” Draco accuses. But despite his words, he leans across the table to kiss him anyway.

Harry coughs as they pull away. “So...Ron and Hermione’s wedding is in three months.”

Draco raises his brow. “Yes.”

“Well, they’ve been nagging me for weeks to find a date, so…Do you want to be my date?” He looks up, hopeful.

“Of course I’ll be your date,” smiles Draco. Harry breaks into a relieved grin.

“Great! That’s - that’s really good.”

They share a kiss, sweet and unhurried, before Harry leaves for work, Draco promising to drop by later.

<><><><><>

Draco’s not quite sure what he expected when he thought about dating Harry Potter. Public outcry in the papers, maybe, but so far no one knows about them, aside from their friends.

Speaking of friends, Harry introduces Draco to his a few days after their first date. Granger accepts his stiff apology with good grace, forgiving him immediately, but Weasley is a harder nut to crack. Finally, after an hour’s worth of observation, he sighs and tells Draco the only reason he forgives him is because he can tell how happy Draco makes Harry. Draco lets go of a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. But, surprisingly, Weasley’s approval is important to him.

Draco, in turn, brings Harry to the Manor a week later. His Mother takes to Harry immediately, and Harry likes her as well. His father, on the other hand, didn’t stay much longer than the introduction and a brief, perfunctory handshake. Draco had expected this, but it still prickles around old wounds.

 _Father’s opinion of me shouldn’t matter_ , he tells himself. _Doesn’t matter. I’m happy with Harry, and he can’t do anything about it._ Draco puts it out of his mind and tries to enjoy lunch with his mother and boyfriend.

Harry takes him out on more dates; movies, dinner, even a stroll in a botanical garden. That date was cut short by a sudden onslaught of rain, but they made it back to Harry’s place and spent the evening in bed, so it wasn’t completely ruined.

They do eventually make it onto the papers, after a date in Diagon Alley. Rumors fly, and they have a good laugh over some of the more absurd details. The Daily Prophet claims Draco to be Veela and Harry his mate. It’s widely known that Veelas require constant contact with their mates, and the Prophet says Harry’s too noble to let someone die, so he agreed to date Draco. Witch Weekly are notably distraught over the reveal of Draco’s sexuality, and claims Harry to be a vampire using his allure on Draco.

Three months later, they attend Weasley and Granger, now Ron and Hermione’s, wedding at the Burrow. They have a Muggle wedding for Hermione’s relatives, but there are some magical touches as well. Harry is the best man and Ginny is the maid of honor. Draco actually likes Ginny; she has a fierce spirit and doesn’t put up with anything. When Draco and Ginny first met, during a dinner at the Weasleys, it was uncomfortable, and rightly so. But they soon bonded over their mutual exasperation at Harry’s annoying habits. Now, they were pretty good friends.

Draco mingles with the other guest as they wait for the wedding to begin. Harry is in the house, helping Ron get ready. Pansy sidles up, rescuing him from having to make conversation with Ron’s great-aunt Muriel.

Pansy and Hermione had become friends almost immediately after meeting. It was a little scary how much they took to each other, and Ron had admitted once that he would be worried about Pansy stealing Hermione away if he wasn’t so secure in their relationship.

“You know, if someone had told me six years ago that I’d be attending the wedding of a Muggleborn and a Weasley, I’d have laughed and hexed their face off,” Pansy comments. She lays her head on his shoulder as they watch the other guests.

Draco laughs. “If someone had told me six years ago that I would be dating Harry Potter, I’d have punched them in the face and threw a party afterward.”

She smiles up at him. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

<><><><><>

When Ron and Hermione exchange vows and a kiss, not a single eye in the audience is dry, including Draco’s. Harry’s eyes find his, and they smile at each other, just as much in love as the two kissing on the altar.

They dance with each other at the reception, whirling around with the other guests. “That’ll be us soon enough,” Harry murmurs, looking towards his best mates. The newly wedded Mr. and Mrs. Granger-Weasley twirls on the dance floor, oblivious to the rest of the people, eyes only for each other.

“Is that a proposal?” Draco returns, half teasing, but half hopeful as well.

“No, not yet,” says Harry, kissing him, “but someday.”

“Someday,” echoes Draco. Someday he and Harry will get a proper house together, maybe somewhere in the country. They’ll get married, settle down, and maybe even adopt some kids. But while Draco looks forward to all this, he’s pretty damn happy right where he is now, dancing with his boyfriend, surrounded by laughter and friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Since Draco doesn't ask for permission when he performs the spells on Harry, this might be considered dub-con for some people.
> 
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